


Blinded by the Light

by taitofan



Series: Lantern Bearer Wirt [3]
Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark fluff, Demon/Human Relationships, Dimension Travel, M/M, Seduction, Shapeshifting, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-02 03:03:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4043365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taitofan/pseuds/taitofan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Wirt asked the Woodsman for help, he thought he'd finally wash his hands of the Beast and his pet forever.  But maybe things long forgotten and even longer repressed will change his mind...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 “I need your help.”

It didn’t surprise Wirt when the Woodsman merely stared at him rather than respond.  How long had it been since they’d last seen each other?  How long had he walked alongside the Beast, carrying the dark lantern, keeping it lit?  A very long time, was all he knew, and yet they still looked just as they had so long ago.

Well, they were dead, so that only seemed to make sense.

“Father, is something wrong?”

A girl poked her head out of the cabin—she looked a few years older than Wirt did, but there was no knowing how old she truly was.  But this was the girl who the Woodsman had carried the lantern for, so she was likely quite a bit older than he was.  It was all rather fascinating to think about.  He wondered how many of the living would sell their very souls for knowledge of this purgatory that had become so common to him.

“No dear, everything is fine.”  The Woodsman didn’t turn to her as he spoke.  In fact, his eyes never left Wirt.  He was suspicious, and Wirt supposed he couldn’t blame him.  “Please go inside.”

“Y-yes father.”  She looked frightened.  He wondered if she knew who he was.

“I see you got your daughter back,” he noted in an attempt at polite conversation.  The Woodsman’s eyes only narrowed.

“…Yes,” he answered, his eyes darting around, as if expected to see the Beast lurking in the shadows.  Wirt tried not to chuckle at his paranoia.  “Once the Beast had you to take care of his soul, I returned home to find her.  There was no need to lie and keep me under his thumb when he has _you_ , Prince.”

Wirt smiled; not only did the Woodsman remember him, but he’d heard the tales that people whispered about the forest.  Good.  That made things easier.

“Will you listen to my request?” he asked politely, giving the Woodsman a small bow.  He didn’t look impressed—Wirt decided he’d just have to try harder.  There was a reason he was known as the Prince of the forest those days, and it wasn’t solely because the Beast was the king.  What sort of prince couldn’t charm his way into hearts and minds?

“I don’t see why I should,” the Woodsman’s gruff voice replied after a few moments.  “I have my daughter and I’ve washed my hands of the Beast, while you have gone and become the Beast’s Prince.  What could you possibly want from me, that I would have any desire to help you with?”

Wirt’s smile didn’t fade.  He didn’t look upset about the resistance he was getting in the least.  After all, all of that had been taken from him years ago, pulled away slowly and locked in the deepest part of his psyche.  He was happy now, with the Beast.  But sometimes….  Sometimes still he longed for someone he’d lost.

“I want to see Greg again,” he admitted quietly, his smile tinged with the smallest amount of regret that he was still capable of, “if only for a little while.”

The Woodsman body relaxed, just a bit.  This was what Wirt was hoping for—that his memories of the sweet, quirky little boy would change his mind.

“…And how do you expect me to help you do that?”  His walls were down; it was time to move in.

“We need information from people not willing to speak to me,” he explained quickly, before he had time to change his mind.  “You, though…  They know you would have no reason to help us.  They’ll talk to you.”

“We?” He quirked a brow, once again looking towards the forest.  “The Beast approves of this?”

“I couldn’t do this if he didn’t.”  He knew the Woodsman would not see the Beast, but Wirt could sense he was near.  He was always near.  “He was the one who suggested I come to you.”  He’d actually said that the Woodsman was _just_ sentimental enough to help, but he left that part out.

“I don’t like it, not at all.”  He shook his head, but Wirt was not deterred.  Not at all.  “…But I will gather this information for you, so long as the Beast stays away from both myself and my daughter completely when all of this is over.”

“I will ask him, and if he agrees, I will return in the morning for you.  If he does not,” though he would, Wirt _knew_ he would, “then you have nothing to worry about, and we won’t be back.”

“Very well.  I will await your arrival, though I hope not to see you.”

Wirt only bowed again, then turned from the Woodsman and walked back to the forest.  Soon…  Soon he’d be able to see Greg again, he just knew it.

Walking through the forest, the cabin to his back getting smaller and smaller, Wirt felt more and more at home.  He didn’t often leave the safety of the trees anymore.  It was easy enough to entice lost souls inside, leading them deeper and deeper, telling them of his sad life and death, making them doubt their own drive to leave the Unknown.  It was easy for them to turn to Edelwood at that point.  Then the Beast would come, and they’d fill the lantern…

Even if the oil wasn’t needed, Wirt almost shivered when he thought of how much power they received for every lost soul harvested.  Why, the Beast’s magic was so mighty now that Wirt could barely contain himself whenever it flared up.  The Beast was just so—

“Ah, my Prince, you have returned.”  Wirt _did_ shiver this time.  The combination of his deep voice and the familiar arms that encircled him from behind never stopped from exciting him.  “How did your meeting with the Woodsman go?”

“He’ll do it as long as you leave him and his daughter alone afterwards.”  His breath hitched as the Beast’s hands wandered over his body.  Having a body that was forever fifteen was occasionally troublesome, but it certainly wasn’t all bad.

“What a pity.  I have a rather soft spot for my old associate.  But if that’s what it will take…”  Wirt could tell there was something the Beast wasn’t saying, but it didn’t matter.  He’d agreed, and that was all that Wirt cared about.  If only he could see Greg, make sure he was doing alright, then he’d never be dissatisfied in any capacity ever again.  “But are you sure you wish to go through all this trouble?  I could easily take that little spot of longing from you.”

“Thanks, but no.  I’m grateful for what you’ve done for me, but I just…”  His eyes slipped shut as he remembered his little brother’s face smiling up at him.  He’d been a fool to treat him so badly, but he didn’t—he _couldn’t_ —wish things had turned out any other way.  He could only hope Greg was doing well on his own.  “I want to make sure Greg is okay.”

“And it has nothing to do with regret?”  Wirt chuckled, leaning down to gently set the lantern on the ground.

“You took away my ability to feel regret almost a decade ago.”

“And you’ve been better for it.”

“Yes, I have.”  He gasped as the Beast slowly began to take his gnarled fingers lower.  “B-beast…”

“Hush, my prince,” the Beast crooned, “and let me show you how much nicer it feels to not think of such things.”

Wirt did as he was told, and as usual, he found that the Beast was right.

\---

“Father, _must_ you leave?”  The Woodsman hated to hear her sound so worried, but he understood why.  He’d feel the same if their positions were switched.  “To go off with the _Beast_ …”

“But then he will leave us alone,” he pointed out to her gently, not telling her that he realized that the Beast wouldn’t necessarily honor his word.  Still, he knew the Beast and Wirt would show up that morning, and he could only hope that Wirt would make him honor any promises made.  Besides, it had been nearly a decade since he last saw either of them.  He could at least go another decade after this, right?

“As long as this isn’t a trap,” she countered, pushing her porridge around idly.  He knew she was against it no matter what his reasoning, but this was something he felt he had to do.  At least part of what happened to Wirt had been his fault.  If he hadn’t been tricked…  If he had gotten them to safety…

Well, he wasn’t going to regret things.  It had still been Wirt’s decision and the Beast’s deception that led them where they were.  He’d do this deed and never feel guilty again.

A knock on the door sounded in the small cabin.  It was time.

“Please stay safe,” he implored, kissing her head.  He wouldn’t say goodbye—he would be back before either of them knew it.

“I will father,” she promised, still not looking happy that he was going.  “Beatrice was going to visit today anyway.  I’m sure she will stay until you return.”

He smiled at her as he fastened his axe to his belt—with any luck, he wouldn’t have to use it—and turned to the door.  It was time.  Without another look back—lest he change his mind—he went outside, finding Wirt standing there, lantern dutifully in hand.

“Good morning, Woodsman,” he greeted far too cheerfully for someone who wandered the forest with the Beast year after year.  “The Beast has agreed to your terms.”

“As I had thought.”  He didn’t bother with any greetings, simply wanting to get this over.  “Let us be off.”

Wirt simply smiled and gestured towards the forest.  The Woodsman followed behind Wirt wordlessly, tense as he realized that the Beast wouldn’t be far behind.  He’d hoped to never see that bastard again, but he could never be so lucky.  To think, he was coming back into the woods of his own accord and—

“Hello, Woodsman.  It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

He might have frozen if he’d been of a weaker constitution, but he’d dealt with the Beast before, and he could deal with him now.

“Beast,” he acknowledged with a nod, though he couldn’t actually see the creature yet.  “It has been far too soon since we last met.”

“Now, now,” the Beast sounded far too amused for his tastes, “is that anyway to speak to an old friend?”

“You’re no friend of mine,” he muttered.  The Beast laughed, and Wirt raised the lantern, allowing him to finally see the creature.  He looked no different than he had a decade before, right down to the short glimpses of snarled Edelwood that made up his body.  There was, however, one thing that was quite different…  “The lantern…  How did the flame become green?”

“My soul entered it when I started carrying it,” Wirt answered, as if there was nothing concerning about that statement.  “Mine was blue.”

“…I see.”

“Something bothers you.”  He glared at the Beast, though the shadows made him unable to tell if the Beast was even looking his way.

“Hardly.  I only wonder why you never tried to tie my soul to the lantern as well, if you had so many problems with getting me to do your bidding.  Seems like it would have been easier than lying to me about my daughter’s soul never being lost at all and keeping me away from her.”  Never had he felt more foolish then when he found out his daughter had been safe all that time—that he’d been the one who’d _truly_ been lost.

“I had considered it,” the Beast replied easily, “but you weren’t as… _receptive_ of my advances.”

“Advances?” Wirt asked, looking from the Beast to him, a curious expression on his face.

“Yes, I told the Woodsman we would work _well_ together, but he didn’t believe me.”  He bristled as he realized what the Beast was insinuating.

“I had a wife.”

“Yes, _had_.  You don’t even remember her.”  He wished that he could have argued, but nothing he said was untrue.  “She never even came to the Unknown.”

“Wait, what?”  He knew that Wirt now understood how the Unknown worked.  Lost souls, between life and death…  Only the ones with the will to live left this place.  “So you and your daughter…”

“I don’t know,” he admitted hoping that an explanation would get the boy to drop the subject.  “It differs from person to person how much they remember about their life, or how they died.  I know that I was married, but I don’t remember anything about her.  I can’t remember how my daughter and I died.  I don’t even know our names.”

“O-oh.  I had no idea…”

“Of course not,” he snapped, not wanting pity from the Beast’s little pet.  “You’ve wandered the woods with the Beast for most of your time here, and he wouldn’t bother telling you such things.”

“Come now, let’s speak of other things, Woodsman.”  He drifted closer to Wirt, laying a hand on his shoulder.  The Woodsman turned his gaze, not wanting to see such a display.  “If this works, perhaps you too can learn something from the living world.”

It was a tempting idea, he realized.  He hadn’t thought about joining Wirt if he found a way out of the Unknown, but…  The idea swirled around his mind.  Maybe he could find out who he was, who his daughter was.  Wouldn’t it be nice to know his name?

“If you tried _advancing_ on him, did you two…?”  Wirt’s voice was soft, but not soft enough not for him to hear.  He wasn’t sure Wirt was even trying to remain unheard.

“Perhaps you should ask him?”  Wirt nodded and turned back to him, and to his surprise, Wirt didn’t look jealous.  He seemed… excited, almost.

“Woodsman, what nature were the Beast’s advances?”

His mind, unbidden, recalled that night long ago.  He’d only been carrying the lantern for a short while, and he’d been so very lonely.  The Beast had spoken to him in his deep voice, smooth and comforting, telling him everything he’d wanted to hear.  It had only been that once, and he’d regretted his moment of weakness almost immediately.

He hated that his body regretted never letting it happen again.

“…I believe you have experience with his methods.”

Wirt laughed, not unkindly, and turned his gaze forward again.  He wouldn’t look at the Beast, but somehow, he just knew he was leering.

\---

They reached the outskirts of Pottsfield just as day was breaking.  The Beast and Wirt waited within the safety of the forest, while the Woodsman headed to the strange little town, mindful of the pumpkins along the way.  He’d been there before, back when he stayed at the millhouse he later learned belonged to Beatrice’s family.  He’d never faced Enoch’s unique punishments, and he didn’t want to start now.

He wasn’t terribly concerned to see all the houses empty, nor to hear the music coming from the large barn.  The residents of Pottsfield did so love their celebrations.  He was careful not to interrupt as he peeked inside, seeing the pumpkin-donning skeletons dancing about.  To his relief, they weren’t using Enoch’s false body as a maypole, instead seeing the small black cat laying on a barrel, watching his townsfolk’s merrymaking.

Almost as if Enoch could sense him—he wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case—the cat looked in his direction.  He said something to one of the skeletons, then jumped from the barrel, walking outside

“Hello Woodsman,” he drawled, sitting by the Woodman’s feet.  “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Hello Enoch,” he greeted back, finding nothing at all unusual about having a conversation with a cat.  He’d experienced far too many odd things for _that_.  “I haven’t been to this area in quite a while.  Not since I…”

Stopped serving the Beast?  Quit unknowingly turning lost souls into oil?  Realized the Beast was lying and his daughter had been waiting at home for him the entire time?  Which of his foolish actions did he even start with?

“It’s alright, friend,” Enoch interjected, no judgment in his voice.  “The past is the past, and I’d say you’ve paid your dues.  Though I do have to wonder why you’ve got the smell of the Beast and the Prince on you.”

He knew he shouldn’t be surprised that Enoch could sense the others, yet he was still taken aback.  Still, the cat stayed perfectly neutral.

“…I owe the boy this small favor, and the Beast at least _claims_ that he’ll leave me and my daughter be if I do this.”  He shook his head, wondering if he was even more of a fool to go along with this.  “I simply need to know if you’ve heard of any way for a denizen of the Unknown to appear in the living world temporarily, or if you know anyone else who might.”

“Hmm, afraid I don’t, though it seems to me like Adelaide might have known, if she weren’t dead.”  The Woodsman tried to stay clear of the witches of the woods. While more human than the creatures like Enoch or the Beast, witches shared the creature’s lack of ever having been human.  They could be very complicated to deal with.  “But her sister Whispers might know.”

“Whispers…”  The name sounded familiar, but he was quite sure he’d never met her before.  “If she’s Adelaide’s sister, the Beast should know who she is.”  He hoped Whispers was nothing like Adelaide.  He’d only met the woman once, but she was very unnerving, what with her little dolls and her obsessive desire for the Beast’s approval .  He’d gotten the impression that she hadn’t much liked him either.

“If not, maybe the Prince will.  The boy made many allies before he went and lost ‘em.”  Enoch stood up and stretched, then turned back to the barn.  “Whatever you decide, Woodsman, you’ve got an ally in me.  After all, the Beast and the Prince aren’t _all_ bad.”

The Woodsman frowned as Enoch went back to the celebration.  He didn’t like what the cat was implying, not at all.  An awfully presumptuous one, that spirit was…

He turned back to the woods, hoping that the witch might offer more information.

\---

Upon hearing the name Whispers, Wirt had smiled.  He remembered that witch!  She’d been scary, but ultimately good, and she cared for Lorna a lot.  He wondered if Lorna had stayed with her?  He hoped so—he rather wanted to see her again.

He wondered what her life had been like before coming to the Unknown.

“I know Auntie Whispers,” he told them, earning him curious looks at the moniker.  He explained what had happened to them, from the turtles to the bell.  The Woodsman seemed content that Wirt could lead them there, but the Beast was oddly quiet.

“Is something wrong?” he asked as they walked, the Woodsman a few feet behind them.  He didn’t particularly care if the older man heard anything he had to say.  Not because he was indifferent, but because he wished to think that the Woodsman _did_ want to hear what he said.

“You spoke fondly of that _girl_.”  He seemed to spit out the word.  “Do not forget who you belong to.”

Was he capable of being jealous?  Wirt wasn’t sure.  He’d never had anything to be jealous _of_.  Who else had the Beast expressed interest in?  The Woodsman.  He was hardly jealous about _that_.  Quite the opposite, really.

“She was kind to me and Greg,” he explained simply, holding up the lantern, its green glow bathing the area.  “Anything else I might have felt back then is irrelevant, as this proves.”

They’d had a similar conversation about Sara, back when Wirt had first asked about the possibility of going to the living world.  He barely remembered the girl anymore, and he certainly held no special feelings for her.

“So long as the young woman feels just as indifferent.”  Wirt couldn’t imagine that she didn’t.  He was well aware that very few people in the Unknown didn’t fear him.  He was a boogeyman now—no one wanted to be seen with him any more than they wanted to be around the Beast.

They walked in relative silence the rest of the way, and by the time Wirt spotted the old cottage, the sun was just beginning to set.  The Woodsman readied himself to go inside, but Wirt placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head.

“Let me try first.”  Perhaps it was unwise, but he wanted to see Lorna again.  Not for any reason the Beast might be jealous of, but simply because he wished to see her again.  The Woodsman put up no fuss, stepping aside and allowing him to try. With no fear, for he had no fear to feel, he walked up to the cottage and knocked on the door.

“Hello?”  The door creaked open, and Wirt saw Lorna standing there, just as he remembered her, simply less pale.  Well, she wasn’t possessed and sickly anymore, so that explained that.  “O-oh my, it’s _you_ …”

Wirt found himself abruptly yanked into the cottage, the door shutting and locking behind him.

“Wirt, is that really you?”  She looked him over, a sad realization in her eyes when she saw the lantern he carried.  “Oh, my turtle, it’s true, isn’t it?  You’ve become a loyal follower of the Beast…”

“I took over as lantern bearer to save Greg,” he admitted, seeing no reason to lie.  “And Greg is why I’ve come to see you today.”

He told her about his plan, and how Enoch had suggested Whispers might know how to make it happen.  Lorna listened quietly, shaking her head once he asked for their help.

“My little turtle…  You once saved me from a terrible fate, and so no matter what you’ve become, I cannot deny you.”  She glanced upstairs, where Wirt assumed Whispers was sleeping.  “Auntie Whispers and I shall help you, but I must warn you, you will only have one day, and you will not be able to go again.  Are you sure that this will not hurt you more?”

“I…”  Only _one day_ …  It was better than nothing, but he understood her concern.  If only he could see Greg was well, he could carry on the rest of his days perfectly content.  “I have to do this, Lorna.”

“Very well,” she nodded, walking back to the door and unlocking it again.  “Come back tomorrow morning, and we will be ready for you.”

“You’re sure Whispers will help?”

“Auntie will help, if only because you rid me of the spirit.”  She opened the door, holding it for him.  “But I beg you, please don’t come back after we help you.  Auntie lost her sister to the Beast’s influence, and I do not wish to see her in pain.”

“I understand.”  He did.  He really did.  “Thank you, Lorna.  I’ll be back in the morning.”

“Good night, my turtle.”

Wirt heard the door lock behind him, and he was rather sure that if sadness were something he still had the capacity to feel, perhaps he would feel it now.

\---

Wirt didn’t need to sleep, nor did the Beast, but the Woodsman did.  They settled into the forest, and the Woodsman took off his jacket and used it as a makeshift pillow against a large tree.  Wirt almost wished the night were cool—it would make his plan easier.

“I want him,” he told the Beast simply, bluntly.  “You had him once, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Unlike his reaction to Lorna, now the Beast only chuckled, running his wooden fingers down Wirt’s cheek.  After a moment, he turned and melted into the shadows, though Wirt knew he was still watching.  He smiled—the Prince always got what he wanted.

“Woodsman,” he called quietly, kneeling down by the sleeping man.  “Woodsman, can you hear me?”

The older man said nothing.  Wirt wasn’t deterred.  He hung the lantern on a sturdy tree branch and carefully positioned himself in the sleeping man’s lap.  He stirred, but he still didn’t awaken.  Wirt placed his hat on the ground, next to the Woodsman’s, then leaned in and pressed their lips together.

At first, Wirt felt the Woodsman’s lips move ever so slightly against his own.  Then he woke up with a gasp, pushing Wirt away.

“W-what do you think you’re doing, boy?”  Thanks to the lantern, Wirt could tell that the Woodsman’s face was flushed.  He smiled and slowly crawled back into the Woodsman’s lap.

“I’m not a boy,” he insisted, moving a hand behind the Woodman’s head to get a better angle.  The woodsman didn’t push him away this time, but he didn’t return the kiss either.  When he pulled back, he sighed.  “I might look fifteen, but I’m technically twenty-five.  You don’t have to feel bad or anything.  You must be in, what, your forties?”

“For many years, yes.  But you’re still younger then my daughter.”

“So?” he questioned, running his other hand down the Woodsman’s toned arm.  He remembered seeing him break a rock with an axe the first time they met, and he shivered.  The Beast had such magical power, but the Woodsman possessed such raw physical power!  “How long has it been since you were last with anyone?  Was it the Beast?  That means it’s been _years_.”

“You and the Beast—”

“He knows.”  He gestured out into the darkness and smiled.  “I told him what I intend to have, and he approves as long as it’s you.”

“…This is wrong.”

“Perhaps, but I don’t really care.”  He leaned in again, pressing his body close to the Woodsman’s.  Much to his delight, this time his kiss was returned, tentatively at first, then with a sort of frenzied desperation.  Wirt gasped as the Woodsman pulled him flush against his broad chest, his strong arms around Wirt’s waist.

And when the Woodsman was the first one to start pulling off their clothes, well, Wirt knew he had won.

\---

The morning came too soon.

Wirt pretended to sleep throughout the rest of the night, but come sunrise, the Woodsman untangled himself and quickly began to dress.  Wirt sat up, no longer seeing any reason to act as if he were sleeping, and watched him.  Closely.

“Do you regret it?”  The Woodsman didn’t seem surprised that he was awake.  He didn’t stop dressing either.  “I don’t.”

“I’m sure you don’t.  But you also have no shame.  I’m sure the Beast took that from you as well.”  Probably, he thought.  “…Last night should not have happened.”

“But it did.  And you were very passionate.”  It had been terribly clear that the Woodsman was lonely.  Not to mention repressed.  When had the man last been on top?  When he was alive?  That was a _crime_ —Wirt was nothing but satisfied.  He adored being with the Beast, but his body was still wooden.  The Woodsman was warm and strong and attentive.  No wonder the Beast had attempted to seduce him.  The Woodsman, quite frankly, was an excellent lover.

“Compared to the Beast, I’m sure anyone would have pleased you.”  The Woodsman was fully dressed, and he next gathered Wirt’s clothing, handing it to him.  “You should get ready to meet with the witch.”

Wirt did as he said, knowing that much was true.  Lorna would be quite cross if he appeared at her door in the nude.  He took his time, noticing that the Woodsman was deliberately looking away.

“Woodsman, I think you don’t give yourself enough credit.”  He finished dressing and walked over to the Woodsman, reaching up to kiss his cheek.  “There’s a reason the Beast and I chose you.”

He grabbed the lantern and left the forest after that, knowing that the Beast had seen and heard everything.  Perhaps, he thought, the two might come to an understanding while he was gone.  If not, that was fine too.

He’d had a taste of the Woodsman, and now he had a thirst that would not be easily quenched.

\---

“Woodsman.”

He groaned, knowing that this was coming.  Of course it was.  How could he have thought anything else?

“Beast.”  The creature stepped from the shadows enough for the Woodsman to see his darkened body.  “You saw it all.”

“I did.  The two of you put on quite a show for me.”  He scowled, and the Beast laughed heartily.  “Now, now, don’t look so sour.  Wirt was very satisfied, and he can be a rather insatiable young man.  I’m impressed.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” he snapped, wishing his axe wasn’t sitting with his other belongings.  Slicing him down would only inconvenience the Beast, but it would make _him_ feel better.

“But I think you need to.”  The Beast slid closer, circling around him.  “Woodsman, you have never held any love in your heart for your lost wife.  You don’t even remember a thing about her.  So why keep pretending?  For your daughter?”

“Leave my daughter out of this!”

“Come, let’s not fool ourselves.”  He stopped behind the Woodsman, his arms reaching out and pulling him close.  “You denied me once, but it is not too late.  Wirt is fond of you, and while you were a terrible lantern bearer, I was fond of you as well.  Continue to be with us, Woodsman.  Stop denying yourself what you desire.”

The Woodsman hated that the words were tempting.  He hated that he knew his daughter could take care of herself—that she had for all the years he’d been gone.  He hated that he often longed to be outside, feeling the cabin was too stifling.  But mostly, he hated himself for feeling desire swell as the Beast’s hands ran down his torso.

“L-leave me be!” he cried, wrenching himself away.  “I’ve had enough of your trickery, Beast!  You will leave me and my daughter alone after this is through, am I clear?”

The Beast laughed; the Woodsman almost shivered.

“Whatever you say, Woodsman.  Whatever you say…”

\---

Wirt left the cottage, the lantern in one hand, and a glowing ball of pink light floating above the other.  This was it.  This was the key to seeing Greg.

True to his word, he had said goodbye to Lorna forever, knowing that his mere presence reminded Whispers of her lost sister.  Perhaps they hadn’t gotten along, but they were family.  He was lucky the witch had helped at all.  He assumed that using the bell to rid Lorna of the evil spirit was the only reason she even agreed.

He swiftly returned to the woods, finding the Woodsman and the Beast standing where he’d left them.  The Woodsman looked agitated, while the Beast was clearly amused.  Ah, so it hadn’t ended well.  No fear, the Woodsman would come around eventually.

“I have it,” he announced as he drew near.  “This orb will bring us to the living world for twenty four hours.  That is all that the magic can sustain temporary bodies for.  Once they break down, we will return back here, and no time will have passed.”

Time flowed differently between the living world and the Unknown anyway.  _Of course_ no time would pass.  Still, it was a relief to know their real bodies in the Unknown would face no harm.

“We?” the Woodsman questioned, glancing at the Beast.  “Does that mean all three of us?”

“Yes,” Wirt grinned, as he looked between them.  “Whispers just seemed to know that I’d want to take the Beast too, and she said he’d gain a human body while we were there.  I might look older too.  She wasn’t really sure about that.  This hasn’t been tested more than a few times, or so she claims.”

“Interesting…”  The Beast had once said that if he’d ever been a human, he couldn’t remember it.  Perhaps he’d never been a lost human at all—who knew?  Either way, with their magical power so high, perhaps this trip could somehow cause the Beast to learn how to make a temporary human form when they returned?  He’d grown fond of the Edelwood body, but certain things _were_ a bit easier with flesh.  “Well then, are we all ready to go?”

They both turned to the Woodsman, who sighed, but ultimately nodded.

“Alright.  But only in the hopes I’ll find out who I was.”

Wirt laughed as he held the orb high, repeating the words Whispers had instructed him to say.  The pink orb slowly grew as he spoke, the light almost blinding.  When the last word slipped from his mouth, he felt his body fall…

And when he opened his eyes, he found himself by a river, facing a familiar cemetery wall.


	2. Chapter 2

Wirt slowly got to his feet, staring at the wall.  After a few long moments, he laughed and raced up the hill, crossing the train tracks and stopping at the wall itself.  He reached out, touching it, making sure that it was real.  _It was_.

“Wirt, I know you’re excited, but take a look at yourself.”

The Beast’s voice got his attention, but it didn’t rid him of his excitement.  He looked down, noticing that his hand were bigger, his legs were longer.  He wore the same sort of clothes he normally did, but his cape and hat were gone.  It seemed that for these twenty-four hours, he was going to be how old he should have been, had he left the Unknown.

“I’m—” His words died in his throat as he looked at his companions.  The Woodsman looked the same, just without his hat.  But the Beast…  “W-wow…  Whispers was right.”

He stared at the unfamiliar looking man.  Tall and lean, with sandy dark blond hair and amber eyes.  He was as pale as death.  Fitting, Wirt supposed.

He was also handsome as sin, and Wirt wouldn’t have minded spending at whole day in the Beast’s arms.  But he had a mission, and it was more likely to get the Beast in that body in the future than to get this chance again.  Besides, with the way the Woodsman was staring, Wirt was quite sure the Beast could use this opportunity to get their other plan underway.

“Okay, so, we need to get over the wall.  The cemetery is there.  Maybe you can find a clue there, Woodsman?  I mean, I don’t know if this is where you lived, but it’s a start.  Beast, you should stay with him, and I’ll go look for Greg.”  The Beast nodded—Wirt had already requested that he be allowed to make the plan during the trip, and the Beast had approved.  “I can climb the tree.  Do you guys think—?”

“Don’t worry.”  The Beast strode over to the Woodsman, and without a word, he picked the Woodsman up and threw him over his shoulder.  His human body might not have looked very strong, but even as the Woodsman kicked and insisted he be put down, the Beast never flinched.  Considering Wirt had seen the Woodsman break a rock with an axe, that was mighty impressive.  “Find your brother; get this wanderlust out of your system.  We shall stay here and wait for your return.”

Wirt nodded, quickly scaling the tree.  His body might have been all new, but he was in good shape from years of wandering the forest.  When he hit the ground, he hesitated for only a moment, remembering the last time he’d been here.  The last time he’d been alive. Then he shook his head and hurried off.  He had to find Greg.

\---

“Unhand me, Beast,” the Woodsman growled when Wirt disappeared over the wall.  “I’m not so old that I can’t climb a tree!”

“I know.”  Still, the Beast didn’t put him down.  “However, we’re going to do this the fast way.”

The Beast carried him up the same way Wirt had gone, but rather than climb the tree, he crouched down and then leapt up, scaling the wall in a single jump.  The Woodsman was never so happy to have his feet on the ground as he was when the Beast finally put him down.

“…Thank you.”  He was reluctant to say such things to the Beast, human looking or not.  It was just part of the disguise, and it would be gone in less than a day.  He wouldn’t be fooled by it.  “There are many graves here.”

“Indeed,” the Beast agreed, looking out over the cemetery.  “We should begin our search.  If it doesn’t wield any results, we’ll need time to think of something else.”

The Woodsman told himself that the Beast didn’t really care about helping him.  He never had and he never would.  The Woodsman tried not to think that once upon a time, he’d believed otherwise.  He’d been such a fool, and he was starting to fall for it all over again.

“I don’t need your help,” he muttered, going off to the closest corner, intending to be thorough.  He needed to see if two graves had a man and a teenage girl with the same last name, who died at the same time.  Whether or not his wife would be there too, he wasn’t sure.  Maybe he’d find that out too.

Maybe he would remember why he didn’t recall ever having loved her.

“And what will you do if you find what you’re looking for?”  The Woodsman glanced over to see the Beast a row over, reading over tombstones.  He would read them for himself later.  “You will know your name, but will anything really change other than how you introduce yourself?”

“Do you really think not knowing who I was is better?  You know how long I’ve been in the Unknown.  How long I’ve dearly wished to call my daughter by her name.”  He thought back to the first time he’d seen the Beast.  He hadn’t even been in the Unknown for long—he remembered how to use an axe, so he’d been chopping wood.  The Beast hadn’t even seemed threatening at the time, just a strange spirit of the forest.  How naïve he had been.  He’d trusted the Beast, only to have that trust thrown back in his face.  He wasn’t going to do it again.  “Why do you even care what happens to me?"

“I needed a lantern bearer.  I cannot cut the Edelwood myself.”  The Woodsman gave a disgusted sigh, refusing to look at the Beast.  “You would not have cut them down had you have figured out where they came from, unless you thought your daughter’s soul was there in the lantern.  And even then, it didn’t really matter, did it?”

“You kept me lost in the woods for decades, thinking she was dead for good!  I was just the perfect pawn for you to manipulate, wasn’t I?”  The Beast didn’t answer, and he finally looked up, scowling at the creature masquerading as a man.  “Answer me Beast— _wasn’t I?_ ”

“…You were perfect, and that was why it had to be _you_.”  The Beast stopped where he was and slowly walked over to the Woodsman.  Even having proper legs, he still seemed to glide.  “That is why Wirt had to be your replacement when you stopped cutting the Edelwood.  He, too, is perfect.  But I would still welcome you back, Woodsman, if you were ever to change your mind.  We would both like to have you join us.”

He glared as the Beast reached out and gently touched the Woodsman’s face with his long fingers.  They felt so very human, yet they were cold.

“ _Never_.”

The Beast chuckled, taking another step closer.  He was a few inches taller than the Woodsman, and when he refused to look at the Beast, those cold fingers tilted his head up by his chin.

“Never is a long time,” the Beast murmured, his face close.  Too close.  “Your daughter will find someone special, if she has not already.  And you will be alone again.”

“That’s _enough_.”  He wanted to pull away, but he couldn’t seem to move.  He wished magic were to blame, but he knew that wasn’t the case.  “I have work to do.”

“You once said yes,” the Beast reminded him.  “You once let me in, you let go of your guilt and took what you wanted.”

“It was a _mistake_.”  This was _all_ a mistake.  He never should have come along.  “I never should have let you touch me.”

“You _loved_ me.”

“Of course I did!”  The Woodsman finally pulled away, flushed and angry and not sure which of the two of them he hated more in that moment.  “Other than my daughter, you were the only one I had!  But it was all a lie.  You were _never_ my friend.  I was convenient because I could already use an axe.  You must have had some other fool carry your lantern, and when you were done with them, you fooled me.”

“They were useless.”  The Beast frowned, taking a step forward.  The Woodsman just took one back.  “They couldn’t chop a tree to save their life, let alone _mine_.  Do you think I liked needing to depend on someone else to keep me alive?  I _did_ enjoy your company Woodsman, believe it or not.  But I wanted to live, and I wanted you to carry my lantern.  If only you hadn’t been _so_ …”  He trailed off, sighing wearily.  “Wirt is every bit a Prince the songs about him say.  But you Woodsman, you still have all those nasty, messy emotions that make you human.  Wirt was happy to give them up, but you keep them close to you.  The two of you are so very different, and yet, you are the only two I’ve ever let carry my lantern for so long.”

The Woodsman wondered how many there had been before himself.

“…And what should I care about that?  With all you’ve done to me—”

“I don’t expect your forgiveness,” the Beast interrupted, “and I am not apologizing.  What is done is done, and I might not have Wirt if things hadn’t happened how they did.  But the offer still stands.  When this is over, you could come with us.  Leave the Edelwood to Wirt—he doesn’t mind.  We could all be together, just the three of us, forever.”

His words were just as impressive as the first time the Woodsman had heard them.  And he still wanted to say yes _so much_.

“N-no.  I won’t do it.”

The Beast didn’t look upset.  He didn’t even look as if he believed those words for a moment.  And when he strode over and deftly caught the Woodsman in a kiss, well, the Woodsman didn’t know if he believed his own words either.

“I hate you,” he whispered between kisses, feeling the warmth between them despite how cold the Beast’s body was.

“You love me,” the Beast corrected coolly.  “You hate yourself for loving me, despite all that I have done to you.  You hate yourself for being everything you were told was wrong when you were alive, don’t you, Marcus?”

The Woodsman pulled back at the name, feeling as if he’d been burned.

“What did you call me?”

The Beast did not answer aloud, but instead took his hand and lead him over to the last grave he’d been near.  There were three headstones.  The oldest looking one was for Nancy Whittaker, and the smallest was for Anna Whittaker.  Looking at the dates, it was clear that Nancy died during childbirth.  Then there was the name in the center, sharing the same date of death as Anna.

Marcus Whittaker.

The Woodsman fell to his knees as everything came rushing back at an impossible rate.  Forcing himself to marry Nancy in an attempt to cure his sinful emotions towards men, his guilt at not loving her, his joy at Anna’s birth, more guilt when he didn’t feel he mourned Nancy’s passing enough, the house fire that took away both his and Anna’s lives…

He barely realized that the Beast was knelling down beside him until he wrapped his arms around him.

“You have found your answers.  Now, what shall you do with that knowledge?”  Marcus didn’t answer right away—he couldn’t find his voice to do so.  It took a few minutes, in which he gradually relaxed into the Beast’s embrace, before his head cleared enough to think.

“Beast…  Were you ever alive?”

“Not as you once were.”  It was hard to tell when the Beast was lying, but Marcus thought this time he was likely telling the truth.  “I was born of the sorrow of lost souls, and that is how I will remain.”

“And your soul mixing with Wirt’s is really enough to keep you alive without Edelwood oil?”

“It is.”

Marcus slowly stood up, the Beast rising with him.  When they were both on their feet, it was Marcus who reinitiated the hug.

“Then…  I will consider your offer.”

He felt the Beast smile as their lips came together again, and he wasn’t sure he could fight this terrible ache any longer.

\---

Wirt walked down streets that were familiar, yet very foreign.  So much time had passed—he hadn’t known how long it would be, but he’d assumed time passed faster in the Unknown.  And yet, now he thought perhaps time in the real world just stopped when one still had a chance to leave the Unknown.  He’d been dead for over nine years, and nine years had passed in the world of the living.

Greg was fifteen now, the same age Wirt had been when he died.

“W-wirt? Is that you?”

Wirt stopped abruptly, his whole body freezing.  He knew that ridiculous voice.  It was deeper than when he’d last heard it, and the stutter didn’t seem as bad, but it was something that Wirt was quite sure he would never forget.

“Jason Funderberker?”  Wirt stayed still as Jason ran up to him, his eyes wide with disbelief.  Wirt couldn’t really blame him, all things considered.  He also found he didn’t feel any deep resentment for the other man either.  Why had he hated Jason so much again?  A girl, right…?  Right, Sara, that was it.  That and the fact that making friends seemed to come so much easier to Jason than it had to him.  But his jealousy was gone, and all that was left was a faint sense of happiness at seeing a familiar face.  “It’s been a while.”

“Wirt…”  Jason reached out and lightly touched his shoulder, and Wirt let him.  He assumed Jason was making sure he wasn’t a ghost.  “How are you…?  You’ve been dead for…  I was at your _funeral_.”

“Thank you for that,” he answered politely.  “I wasn’t very kind to you before I drowned, so that was nice of you.”

“Drowned?  Wirt, are you saying you’re really dead?”

He looked so freaked out by the very idea that Wirt had to laugh.  He hadn’t really thought of what he would do if anyone recognized him.

“It’s a long story.  But since I probably shouldn’t waltz into Greg’s school, I have time to kill if you want to hear it.”

Jason stared for a moment before nodding, and that was how Wirt found himself in a small, clean apartment ten minutes later.  It barely looked lived in, but Jason had to have been at least close to twenty-five himself.  How long could he have been here and still have it look so _impersonal_?

“Yeah, it’s pretty empty, I know.  I work a lot.  Rent is pretty high, even with a small as it is.”  They hadn’t been good friends, but the town wasn’t big enough that rumors were never heard.  Jason’s dad had run out when they were in middle school, and his mom always seemed distant whenever Wirt had seen her.  It was no wonder Jason didn’t want to live with her, even if it meant working long hours to live somewhere else.  “I wish my landlord didn’t have a _no pets_ rule.  It’d be much nicer here with a cat, I think…”

“I know a talking cat, back at home.”  He knew he hadn’t even told Jason about the Unknown yet, but he looked so sad, and Wirt wasn’t used to dealing with sadness anymore.  At least, unless it was a terrible lost soul turning into Edelwood.  “His name is Enoch, and he’s the mayor of Pottsfield.  I think you’d like him.”

“Well, I _would_ love to meet a talking cat.”  Jason paused, and then he shook his head slowly.  “I can’t believe I’m saying this.  Wirt, I think you should tell me why you’re here, when I saw them bury your casket into the ground.”

Wirt nodded, sitting in a small wooden chair Jason offered to him.  Soon he was telling his story of giving up his life for Greg’s safe return, of his days spent in the forest, of his desire to see Greg just once.  Jason listened raptly, not interrupting even once.  Wirt left out a few of the more intimate details of his time with the Beast and the Woodsman, but otherwise he did not shy away from telling exactly what he had done in his afterlife.

“And that’s about it,” he finished when he got caught up to the current day.  Jason’s eyes were wide as he took in everything.

“So you wander the forests of purgatory with an eldritch beast made from oily wood?”  Wirt nodded after a moment.  He supposed it did sound odd when it was put like _that_.  “I can’t believe I have a dead man in my apartment.”

“I didn’t think I was going to be in your apartment today either,” Wirt admitted with an easy smile.  It seemed silly now that he’d disliked Jason so much because of a girl.  Sure, he’d loved her back then, but he supposed he just as easily could have loved Jason instead, if he hadn’t been trying so hard to pretend he wasn’t bisexual at the time.  Just another thing the Beast had helped him with.

“And we’ll never see each other again after today…”

Wirt wondered if he should give some sort of “ _That’s a good thing because it mean you’re alive_!” spiel, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.  Maybe he was just too in tune with people’s suffering considering his role with the Beast, but he got the feeling Jason wasn’t as happy with his life as he’d been in high school.

“Not unless you get yourself in a situation where you _could_ die, but you could still get yourself out of it if you were dedicated enough.”  They were all dead in the Unknown, and all of them, for one reason or another, had chosen to stay.  If you didn’t leave the Unknown, you lived happily in the Wonderland-like purgatory, or you fell to despair and got turned to Edelwood.

Well, unless you were the Woodsman, he supposed.  Wirt knew, from the Beast’s own admission, that lantern bearers were not exempt from becoming Edelwood.  But if the Beast didn’t will it?  Wirt wondered if the Woodsman knew how fond of him the Beast truly was.

“You’re not doing a good job selling living when you’re saying I could live in a world where cats can talk and magic is real just by drowning and deciding not to leave.”  Jason was obviously trying to act as if he were kidding, but Wirt knew better.  And considering he no longer had the anxiety to over think his responses…

“Jason, are you depressed?”  He expected a quick denial—not the hallow laugh he got.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, turning to look out the window.  It was a beautiful day, sunny and warm, but Jason didn’t look content at all.  “I know I’m not really happy though.”

Wirt had once thought Jason Funderberker was perfect.  The total package.  Now, hearing him saying those sorts of things didn’t sit well with Wirt.  It made him _uncomfortable_.

He wasn’t supposed to feel this way anymore.  Why was he feeling like this?

“Wirt, are you okay?  You don’t look well.  I mean, even for a dead man.”  Jason’s genuine chuckle soothed Wirt’s nerves a bit.  Maybe this was just because he was in this false body, far away from where his soul was sitting safely in a lantern.  Besides, the feelings were still very muted—tiny twinges instead of the almost crippling anxiety he’d felt when he was alive.  It would pass, he was sure.

“I’m fine,” he replied, smiling again, a half-truth already on his tongue.  “Just wishing it was time for Greg to get out of school.  I really don’t want to go home to find him.  The less people I know who recognize me, the better, you know?”

“Yeah, that’s understandable.”   Jason seemed more than willing to turn the conversation away from his apparent melancholy.  “Your parents would freak, and I’m not sure Sara could handle seeing you.  She was a wreck after they pulled your body out of the lake.”

“She was?”

“Yeah, of course,” Jason gave him a look that seemed to be saying ‘ _Are you shitting me right now_?’  “She had the biggest crush on you.”

“She _did_?”

It occurred to him that if he’d realized Sara liked him too, he never would have been in the situation that lead him to where he was now.  Even if he didn’t have the two tethers that he did to the Unknown, he didn’t feel as if he was missing anything by not being alive.  It was still an amazing thing, knowing that Sara had cared for him.

“We all knew you two liked each other,” Jason continued.  “All of us were just waiting for it to happen.”

“I didn’t know that she…”  How could he have missed that?  Even with his anxiety, surely he should have been able to see someone being attracted to him.  He’d picked up on the Woodsman’s attraction immediately.  “I thought she liked _you_.  And you liked her too.  Why didn’t you two end up together?”

“You’re not even joking, are you?”  Jason laughed, shaking his head in disbelief.  “Sara and I weren’t even close friends.  She called me by my _last name_. I’m not sure how you even began to think she’d ever pick me over _you_.”  He paused, looking Wirt over carefully before he sighed and added, “…Besides, it was more like I wanted to like her, but I didn’t.  I couldn’t.”

“You’re gay?”

“ _You’re_ awfully blunt these days.”

Wirt shrugged; his job was awfully dull when you pussyfooted around the fact that a lost soul was turning into a tree.  Dull and drawn out and taking away from time he could be with the Beast.

“Things happen when you die,” was all he said.  “Don’t avoid the question.”

“I am.”  There was a familiar, uncomfortable look on Jason’s face and Wirt noticed that Jason was avoiding his eye.  “No one knows though, well, except for you now.  If my _mom_ knew…”

“Don’t worry, I don’t care.  I never told anyone when I was alive, but I liked girls and guys.  The people of the Unknown call me the Beast’s Prince for a reason, you know.”  He wouldn’t even bring up what he and the Woodsman had done just recently.

“The same Beast that’s made of literal _wood_?”

“I could make a terrible joke right now, if you’d like,” Wirt offered, smirking lightly.  Jason laughed and shook his head.  “Yeah, well, like I said, things happen.  I never expected it to end up that way.  It just did.”

“…You really do seem a lot happier now then you did when you were alive.”

“I am,” Wirt admitted, not even needing to think about it.  “If it weren’t for Greg…  I wouldn’t even think about coming back.”

Jason became dreadfully quiet, and Wirt wondered if he really should have told the other man that.

\---

Marcus let the Beast lead him around the cemetery, one arm over his shoulder, occasionally pointing out a name that Marcus recognized.  It seemed quite a few people who lived in their corner of the Unknown had once lived in this town.  Still, Marcus could only think of the three tombstones of him and his family.

“You are over thinking things,” the Beast murmured, squeezing Marcus’s shoulder.  It was deceptively affectionate.  “You have been dead for over a hundred years.  What do you have to feel guilt over _now_?”

“I couldn’t love my wife, the woman who died bearing my child, and yet I’m here with you.  I had my way with Wirt just last night.  I believe all my age means is that I’m old enough to know better than to fall for any of your nonsense, yet here I am.”  Marcus jerked to a stop when the Beast stopped moving.  He was about to question the Beast when he noticed the grave they stopped before.

Wirt Rogers, dead at the young age of fifteen.

“Wirt didn’t even _ask_ if he could seduce you.”  Marcus tore his eyes from the grave, wanting to think the Beast was lying.  He knew that wasn’t true.  “It wasn’t hard for him.  Nor has it has not been difficult for me today.”

“You’re very confident that I will side with you, Beast.”  The Beast smirked, letting go of Marcus’s shoulder and standing calmly beside him.

“I am.  But right now, we have company.”  Marcus glanced up, seeing a young woman looking into the cemetery.  She was staring right at them.  “Perhaps this is the woman Wirt once… _loved_.”

The Beast said the word as if it were the most hilarious concept in the world.  A stark contrast to his reaction to Lorna.  The Beast really did not see this woman as a threat, assuming that was really her.  Not that the Beast should have felt threatened by _anyone_ , what with Wirt’s total devotion to him.  It occurred to Marcus that technically _he_ was the closest to a “threat,” but seeing as they were _both_ trying to seduce him…

“Um, excuse me?”  The woman was quickly approaching, looking suspicious of them.  “Hello, my name is Sara.  I’m sorry if this seems strange, but, ah, did you know Wirt?”

Marcus thought that this probably _was_ the woman, if she knew the location of Wirt’s grave so well.  The Beast’s face seemed to show recognition of the name, and he smiled in a deceivingly charming manner.

“Good afternoon, Miss Sara,” the Beast greeted pleasantly.  “I am Henryk, and this is my partner, Marcus.  We are friends of Wirt’s birth father.”  He reached out and took Marcus’s hand—it was slightly warmer than it had been earlier.  “We live far away, but since we were passing through, it seemed fitting to pay our respects.”

“I see…”  Sara looked down at the gravestone, gently running her fingers over it.  It was obvious that she had held Wirt dearly in her heart.  “I’m sure he would appreciate it, even if he didn’t really ever see his father.”

Marcus hadn’t known much about Wirt’s family; he assumed the Beast knew because Wirt had told him about it at some point in their nine years together.  It helped in this case, creating a lie that the woman believed easily.  She didn’t even seem to suspect that they were not actually a couple.  He supposed that _was_ an odd thing to lie about.  If only she knew who was lying to her…  Marcus could only begin to imagine how many times Wirt had had sex with the Beast over the years.

“I thank you, Miss Sara.”  Marcus wished he could get away with rolling his eyes—the only thing the Beast was thankful for was the fact that he had Wirt and Sara never would.  “It was such a tragedy to lose him so soon, but I have the utmost confidence that Wirt is happy where he is now.”

Sara smiled softly at the hopeful words, never knowing how true those words were.  Wirt _was_ happy, even with the Beast.  Even if Marcus thought it was a tragedy that the young man had ended up turning into everything the Beast wanted in a little pet—everything he couldn’t turn Marcus himself into—it was clear Wirt was content.

“Well, it was nice to meet you both.  I need to get to work, but thanks for visiting Wirt.”

The Beast bid her a good day on behalf of the both of them, Sara not seeming terrible concerned that Marcus had never said a word.  It had been a thankfully short meeting.

“Henryk?” Marcus asked once Sara was out of range.  The Beast took his free hand and placed it on Marcus’s hip, pulling his body closer.  Marcus’s felt his face heat up at the contact.  He tried to remind himself that he’d had sex with the Beast before, when he was made of wood, so _this_ was nothing.  It wasn’t working.

“It was merely the first name I thought of.  Don’t think too much into it.”  The Beast smirked, bringing their faces closer.  “Now, my dear _partner_ , have you given more thought into your answer?”

“…You’ll have it when we return to the Unknown. Surely you can wait until then.”

“I have been patient for a long time.”  He leaned in and kissed Marcus far more softly than the last time.  “I can wait for you to accept what you desire.”

Not for the first time, Marcus wondered why he was bothering to hold back.

\---

Wirt waited impatiently, sitting in Jason’s apartment and wondering what the future was to bring.  Jason had gone out to meet Greg when school was out, to make their reunion a bit less public.  And not to start a riot when a dead man showed up at the local high school.

He jumped when he heard voices approaching the door, one asking what the big surprise was.  Wirt’s heart beat wildly—there was no doubting that was Greg.  His voice was much deeper, but that was his little brother.  He was finally going to see him…!

The doorknob turned, and Wirt scrambled to his feet.  In moments, the door swung open, and—

“Greg!”

Wirt ran to his brother, hugging him closely.  Greg did not respond at first, seeming to be frozen in place.  But when Wirt pulled away enough to look at his brother’s face, the tears he found there said everything.

“W-wirt…?  Is that really you?  This isn’t another dream?”

“It’s me,” Wirt promised, feeling his own eyes sting.  When had he last cried?  He couldn’t recall.  “Do you remember Lorna and Auntie Whispers?  They helped me visit you.”

“I knew it Wirt, _I knew it_!  Everyone said I’d just dreamed about the Unknown, but I knew it was real!”  Greg pulled away from the hug and laughed, grabbing Wirt’s hands and bouncing on his heels.  Then it happened—the pang of regret.  The wish that he had been around to see Greg grow up.  And that lead to a mild sense of panic.  No, no, this wasn’t right!  He wasn’t supposed to feel any of this!  “Wirt?”

“Don’t worry about me, I’m fine!”  But he wasn’t, and judging by the look on Jason’s face, he wasn’t being very convincing about that.  “Oh Greg, there’s so much I want to ask you.”

“Me too!” Greg cheered, going back to his bouncing.  “I’m so glad you’re back!”

“Well, it’s…”  He hated to think that he was about to upset Greg, but he could lie to him about something so important.  “It’s only for a day.”

“What?”  Sure enough, Greg’s face fell, and there was that terrible guilt again.  “No, Wirt, you can’t leave again!”

“I have to,” he explained gently, taking his hands from Greg and placing them on his brother’s shoulders.  He was almost depressed to see that Greg was nearly as tall as he was.  He was quite sure Greg would be taller than him if he were in his real body.  “I can only be here for a day.  That’s all the magic will allow.  I’m dead, Greg, and that won’t change for all the magic in the world.  I have to go back.”

“O-oh…”  Greg closed his eyes, and Wirt didn’t hurry him along.  This was easy, he knew.  “Well, maybe you can visit again some time?”

Greg’s face was so full of innocent hope that this time Wirt couldn’t tell him the truth.  Besides, maybe there were other spells out there.  Maybe he _could_ come back.

“Of course, Greg, I’m sure I can.”

“Great!”  Greg’s smile was back in an instant, bringing one to Wirt’s face too.  “Then we have to talk as much as we can before you have to go!”

“We will, but…”  He looked up to Jason, who nodded without hesitation.  Wirt got the feeling Jason didn’t turn away company.

“It’s fine Wirt,” he assured.  There!  _Again_!  The guilt for how he’d treated Jason, especially with how kind Jason was being right now.  He didn’t hold a grudge at all, and Wirt knew he’d been an utter prick.  “I have to get to work soon anyway.  Just stay here and talk.  It’ll be safer.”

“Thank you,” he said sincerely, before something hit him.  Two somethings.  “Hey, I actually came here with two men, and they’re in the cemetery…”

“I pass there on my way to work.  I’ll give them directions.”  If Wirt wasn’t taken he might have kissed Jason.  How did this man not have a boyfriend?

Oh, right, because the whole world thought he was straight.

“Jason, you are seriously the best.  After all I did—”

“It’s fine, Wirt, really it is.”  Jason grabbed a bag from the counter, presumably containing things he needed for his job.  “I don’t blame you for anything, and what kind of person would I be if I didn’t help you out when you have so little time?  Have fun with Greg, and I’ll tell your friends where you are.  I’ll be back in a few hours.”

Wirt and Greg said their goodbyes, and once the door shut, Greg turned his attention back to Wirt.

“Who else came with you?” he asked excitedly, probably hoping it was someone they’d made friends with.  Wirt didn’t even think before he answered.

“The Woodsman and the Beast.”

But when Greg’s eyes widened, he thought he probably should have.

“The Beast?  You brought the _Beast_?”

“Is it that surprising?”  Greg knew why Wirt had died, right?  “You got out because I agreed to carry the lantern.  Why wouldn’t you think I’d be with the Beast?”

“I dunno,” Greg admitted quietly, clenching his fists together.  “I thought maybe you’d gotten away from him…  Have you cut down Edelwood trees?”

Wirt wanted to lie.  He wanted to lie _so badly_.   Mostly, he wanted the Beast there, so he could be assured that these terrible emotions would go away.

“I have.”  He didn’t dare tell Greg it wasn’t necessary.  “But everyone has deserved it, so—”

“What?  Wirt, how can you say that?”  Greg looked betrayed, and Wirt thought his stomach was trying to twist itself into knots.  “They were people!”

“They were _trees_.  They weren’t people and they weren’t using the oil.”  Because Wirt had lured them in.  Because Wirt had fed their despair.  Because Wirt wanted the Beast to have more power.  “Greg, I know it’s hard to understand, but—”

He stopped short as Greg’s eyes began to fill with tears again, and this time they weren’t happy ones.

“Oh Wirt, what happened to you?”

What happened to him…?  He closed his eyes and sighed.

“My life isn’t my own anymore, Greg.  I live for the Beast.  And I’m happy that way.”  Greg didn’t look convinced.  “I don’t expect you to be pleased about it, but it’s true.  I work with the Beast, and I…  I care for him.”  Why was that so hard to say to Greg?  He’d never had a problem flaunting his title before.  “And the Woodman might join us too.”

“But the Woodsman hates the Beast,” Greg insisted, and Wirt wasn’t sure if he could actually refute that.  “The Beast lied to him!”

“These things are complicated.  I hope…  I hope they aren’t things you’ll have to deal with when you’re an adult.”  Because Wirt knew that this situation wasn’t exactly healthy by human standards.  But he didn’t care.  Even with his anxiety coming back, by the stars, he still loved the Beast.  And he got the feeling the Woodsman’s hatred wasn’t as simple as just that.  “You know, maybe coming here was a mistake.”

Greg was out of his chair in a moment, throwing himself into Wirt’s lap.  Wirt held him close, not wanting to let go.  Yes, this had been selfish of him.  Of course Greg was going to be fine.  It had been because of his own lingering worry that he had wanted to seek out his brother.

“I wouldn’t say that.”  Wirt and Greg’s heads both shot up to see two men enter the apartment.  How had they managed to be so quiet?  “I would actually say it’s been a fruitful trip, wouldn’t you, Marcus?”

Greg’s grip on him tightened, and Wirt stroked his back, trying to calm him.

“Greg, you remember the Woodsman, um, Marcus?”  The Woodsman nodded, and Wirt smiled.  He’d found his past; that was a relief!  “And, well, this isn’t how he usually looks, but this is the Beast.”

“Hello, Gregory,” the Woodsman—no, _Marcus_ , Wirt reminded himself—greeted warmly.  “You’ve grown up well.”

“Still trying to catch the sun in teacups?” the Beast teased, and while Wirt had no idea what that meant, he knew it must have happened when they’d been separated, if Greg’s body tensing even more was any indication.

“You changed my brother,” was all Greg said, getting out of Wirt’s lap and glaring at the Beast.  It was a _bit_ more intimidating than it had been when he was six.  “What did you do to him?”

“Nothing he didn’t want.”  And it wasn’t a lie, but Greg remained unconvinced.  “You don’t believe me.  I cannot blame you, but it is the truth.  Your brother is the best lantern bearer I’ve ever had.”  He glanced to Marcus.  “No offense, my dear.”

“I’d hate myself if _I’d_ been the best.”

“And I love you too.”

Wirt desperately wished he knew what had happened while he was away from them.

“Greg,” he said quickly, standing up and turning him in the direction of the bathroom, “why don’t you call mom and think of an excuse to stay out.  It’s Friday, right?  See if you can convince her to let you spend the night at a friend’s house.”

Greg seemed to realize that Wirt wanted him to leave the room for a minute, but Wirt knew he made a good point, so Greg did so without complaint.  When he’d shut the bathroom door, Wirt turned back to them.

“What’s going on?  You two seem a lot closer than when I left you.”  He laughed when the Beast pulled Marcus close, making him flush.

“Wirt, I believe our dear Woodsman will be joining us yet.  Isn’t that right, Marcus?”

“I…  I haven’t given my answer yet…”

Wirt couldn’t help it, he rushed over and threw his arms around Marcus’s neck, kissing the shocked man deeply.  Marcus responded after a moment, making Wirt smile into the kiss.  This was perfect!  They should have tried getting Marcus to join them years ago!

“Eww, I don’t want to see my brother kissing!”  Wirt and Marcus pulled apart to see Greg put his cellphone away, sticking his tongue out.  Then he giggled, smiling brightly again.  “So you really are happy, Wirt?”

Wirt nodded, grabbing Marcus’s hand with one of his, and the Beast’s with the other.

“I am.”

“Good.”  He sat back down, patting another chair.  “Then we have a lot to talk about!  Come on Wirt, we need to do a _lot_ of catching up before tomorrow!”

Wirt laughed and sat back down, the Beast and Marcus following suit in the last two chairs.  He’d been wrong, he thought as Greg began to tell him about his plans to go to art school for painting.  This wasn’t a bad trip at all.

Now he just had to hope that leaving Greg wouldn’t be too painful to recover from.


End file.
